And you thought you had a rough day at the office: a prostitute in Zimbabwe passed out during sex with her john. As she was being placed inside a coffin, she suddenly woke up and began screaming, “You want to kill me!”, thus freaking everyone the f**k out. The woman, identified as MaNdlo, reportedly collapsed and “died” on the job at the Manor Hotel in Bulowayo, Zimbabwe. Authorities wasted no time putting MaNdlo inside a steel coffin, as they assumed her cold body mean she was dead. Nope! “It was like a movie,” The Huffington Post quoted a source ”People were running away in different directions. It was a scary incident because we were all convinced that she had died because she was just cold. Miracles surely do happen.” Or maybe people just need to learn how to take a pulse. [Huffington Post]
This piece was republished with permission from Role/Reboot.
This week I read a wonderful article about our generation’s search for meaning by fellow Role/Reboot contributor Kerry Cohen. It spoke to me so deeply that I went out of my way to read the article that had inspired Cohen: Elizabeth Wurtzel’s recent meandering confessional. It made me so angry my hair nearly caught fire.
I had been primed by Cohen to be compassionate and thoughtful about what Wurtzel was saying. So I took off my judgmental hat as I read about her life. I tried to see the world through the eyes of someone who has lived a life so foreign from my own I could barely wrap my brain around it. When she wrote that she was proud to have never kissed anyone for any reason other than desire or written anything that she did not feel like writing, I questioned my own ideas about kissing and writing rather than immediately assuming hers were perhaps a bit shallow. I decided that she could have done far worse things with her life, like becoming a parent who is a narcissistic dilettante. Keep reading »
PotentialProstitutes.com is a hideous new website that posts the photos, locations and phone numbers of women who it deems might be sex workers. Many of the pics appear to be mug shots, which would suggest at least some of the women featured on the site have been arrested in the past for sex work. But if you’re an extra special douchebag, you can submit random people for inclusion on Potential Prostitutes. Keep reading »
Prostitutes — out of sight, out of mind. At least that’s what the government of Zurich, Switzerland, is hoping for. That’s why they’ve created drive-in sex boxes, which will accommodate around 30 working prostitutes. The boxes are a move to begin regulating the sex trade in the city, where officials say prostitution has gotten out of hand. In order to qualify to use one of the boxes, the prostitutes will have to be covered by medical insurance, pay a £26 license, and a daily fee of around £3.30. The boxes will be located in an industrial area, and will be occupied on a first-come, first-served basis (no pun intended.) Keep reading »
When you think of Kennebunkport, Maine, images of lobsters, sailing, and even the Bush family retreat come to mind. What you don’t think of is seedy sex scandal – that is, until now. The swank, coastal town is where a prostitution ring was being run out of a local Zumba studio.
A local fitness instructor, Alexis Wright, has been charged with running the illicit business out of her gym and secretly taping the “dates.” Now the entire town is waiting to see whose names pop up on the list of johns as the investigation unfolds. Read more…
Not that I was under any illusions that pimps were good people as a general demographic, but this just makes me want to take a bath after reading it. On Monday, Long Island police raided the home of an alleged pimp named Steve McDaniel and came across a handwritten list called “Rules 2 Da Game of Hoez!!!” Keep reading »
On occasion, I get mildly – just mildly – depressed. That sort of depressed where you can’t quite pin it on one particular thing, where it’s more a general, ambiguous malaise. On the occasions when I find myself feeling this way, and as a single woman in her 30′s who lives alone and works from home, I try to get out of the house. On one such occasion, I decided to treat myself to brunch. I did so at a restaurant down the block from my apartment, a spot I dined at, on average, two times a week. Whenever I go in there, I arrive with book in hand, sit at the bar, order a glass of wine, followed by a bowl of soup, followed by a cup of hot water. The routine, as a whole, prompted frequent urination, which both A) provided helpful intermissions to my reading, and B) helped me, as a Solo Diner, to look occupied.
The restaurant’s most winning feature is – and has always been – a loin-achingly handsome waiter I shall henceforth call Brian.* If you imagine both John Lennon and Justin Timberlake at their most handsome of stages, shaken, stirred, poured into a tall glass of water, you’d wind up with Brian. I knew, as all patrons knew, that Brian was to be not obtained, merely ogled; that one did well to appreciate him as exquisite décor rather than realistic option. Keep reading »
It’s a sign of the times in South Auckland, New Zealand, where local prostitutes are being accused of destroying street signs by using them for pole dancing routines designed to attract customers.
In the last 18 months, more than 40 poles have been bent, buckled or broken in the past 18 months and the signs, which include notices of parking restrictions, cost taxpayers thousands of dollars to replace.
Elected officials such as Donna Lee say the culprits are local prostitutes who use them like stripper poles in a dance club.
“The poles are part of their soliciting equipment and they often snap them,” she told The Telegraph. ”Some of the prostitutes are big, strong people.” Read more …